Indiana Jones and The Doctor's Wife
by Punzie the Platypus
Summary: The humorous first and second encounters between Dr. Indiana Jones and Professor River Song, two grossly different but similar archaeologists.


_**Soli Deo gloria**_

 **DISCLAIMER: I do NOT own Indiana Jones or Doctor Who.**

 **Indiana Jones, River Song: both smart-Alec adventuring archaeologists.**

 **This probs needed to be done a long time ago.**

 **:)**

* * *

 _Venezuela, 1948_

Indiana's hand trembled as he lifted up the lost horn of the Pryian tribe. Its markings, covered in dust, were still distinct. He grinned to himself and slipped it into his satchel—

—just as a bullet rang through the air and planted his fedora against the tomb's wall.

" _Don't_ love the hat, darling."

Indiana turned around to face this gunman; this reminded him of Belloq and his excellent timing—he always showed up once Indy'd found the end of the line and risked his life too many times.

But this wasn't a mercenary or an ordinary looking archaeologist or a gunman at all.

It was a woman—an authoritative, attractive woman, with tawny kinky curls. She straightened the bend in her hips and stuck her smoking .38 into her leather holster; she smiled a sweet yet smirky smile at the stunned archaeologist and said, "I believe that's mine."

Indiana Jones barely moved as he shifted into a straightened position. He glanced at the lost horn in his satchel and then at this cool woman, who smiled at him like a lioness upon her prey. He smiled and said, "You're not French, are you?"

"No. You wouldn't believe me if I told you what I was," she said.

"Okay. So if you're not a girl Belloq . . ." He looked her in the eye as he gently strapped down the flap of his satchel. She kept her eyes on his. . . "Then who are you?"

"My name is Professor River Song. I am a professor affiliated with the Luna University, I'm a . . . let's say . . . globe-trotter, and a seeker of great antiques. You wouldn't believe the things I've found." She grinned. She put out her hand. "River Song, archaeologist."

Indiana eyed the hand and then looked at her. He didn't take it. "Indiana Jones," he said.

River still kept her hand offered. "Why don't you just hand that off right now and save us a whole lot of weeping and gnashing of teeth? I'm not in the mood for hand-to-hand."

Indiana inclined his head to her outstretched hand. "The evidence shows otherwise, sweetheart."

"Hmmm, I wouldn't call me that. I've got a husband, and he can get _oh_ so possessive," River said sweetly.

"Lose it with the darling," Indiana fired back, "I'm taken."

"Hmmm, all right. Now, now that we've knocked out the idea of this turning into a flirting repartee, hand over the lost horn and I'll be on my way." River tightened her jaw and wiggled her fingers. "Come on, hurry up."

Indiana Jones chuckled to himself after a moment of complete silence and no movement. "You don't think I'm just going to hand this over, do you? Come on. You're not that pretty."

River cocked her head. "Oh, no. You've hurt my feelings." She switched her hands; her left hung out, its fingers greedy and itching for the sought-after artifact. Her right one brought out her .38; she aimed quite readily and steadily. "Here; I'll add a 'please.'"

"That isn't going to get you anywhere," Indiana Jones said, glancing from the .38 to her eyes. He shook his head.

"If it makes you feel better, I haven't been following you for days and days on end. I discovered the lost horn's origins in the Barton College library and have spent the past thirteen days risking my life amongst other grave robbers trying to find it. Really, you want to get out of here before the rest of them show up." She gave him a bracingly sarcastic smile. "I'm one of the nice ones."

Indiana Jones couldn't help the grin that overtook his face. Who did this lady think she was? Did she have some kind of backup that was silent as time? What was she thinking?

"I guess my reputation doesn't precede me. I wouldn't cross me, River," Indiana Jones said.

"It would better serve you to call me Professor Song, Indiana," River said; there was a poisonous warning in her sticky sweet voice. Her face fell flat from any smile; she wasn't kidding. "Hand it over. It's imperative!"

"Why? I'm guessing the life of your mother or someone is on the line and won't be saved unless I hand it over?" Indiana Jones asked sarcastically.

"Yes, actually!" River hissed.

Indiana held still. "You're not on a time limit, are you?"

River rolled her eyes and fired a shot into the ancient tomb; ceiling crumbled around them and the walls shook.

"What the hell did you do that for?" Indiana yelled, even as the tomb's walls and ceiling shook.

"Do I have your attention now?" River asked, cocking her head.

"You're crazy!" Indiana shouted at her.

"And you're stubborn!" River yelled at him.

The hard earth beneath them cracked right between their legs. The shaking walls had put their blow upon the floor as well.

Their eyes met up from watching it grow.

"Truce 'til we get out of here?" Indiana Jones asked.

"Agreed," River nodded.

The mad dash to save their lives proved successful, as they came flying out of the entrance to the tomb with a dusty, ear-numbing explosion behind them. In the seconds to save themselves, Indiana ended up falling on top of River; he shielded her by extending the sides of his jacket over her head.

The last pieces of the aftermath fallen, they popped their heads up, slowly, hesitatingly. River, once her voice was recovered, said roughly, "I'm married!"

"Sorry," Indiana said gruffly. He rolled off of her and she quickly got to her feet. She pointed her gun between his eyes and said, "Well, thanks is in order, then."

"Wasn't a problem," Indiana said sarcastically. He pointed a finger at the gun. "That's a poor way to show your gratitude."

"This is me being entirely grateful," River said cheerfully. She held up the horn with her free hand; "Thanks also for this, Jones." She then hit his forehead with the butt of her .38, leaving him with cartoon stars dancing around his head as she leapt into the Venezuelan jungle.

 _New Zealand, 1954_

River Song, bent over a dinosaur bone that'd taken her five months, sixteen days, and eleven hours to get to the point of its being halfway removed from two feet within the surface of the earth, felt the deadly kiss of a gun pressed against the back of her neck.

"What's the magic word, River?" Indiana Jones demanded to know.

"I'm guessing 'Please' wouldn't suffice for you, Dr. Jones?" River asked sweetly. She turned her head so the gun was now against her front collarbone. "And let's not get informal: it's Professor Song."

"Oh, you'll be singing soon enough for me, Professor." The gun was cocked, and Indiana Jones said, "Stand up."

River slowly rose, her hands up in a surrendering gesture.

"Where's the horn?" he wanted to know. "And call me Indiana; Dr. Jones is my father."

"Whatever, Henry." His face drained when she said that, but he ignored it. "The horn is somewhere safe, where you'll never find it." She cocked her head. "You know, actually, that's not _quite_ true. It's in the hands of an alien race that six years ago kidnapped my parents and my husband and demanded only the horn in return, and if you had a vortex manipulator like I do, I suppose, _Indiana_ , it could be found. You're a great archaeologist. One of the best, besides me. You'd find it, eventually."

Indiana's brain could scarcely comprehend any sentence she uttered. Every additional only added some very much _un_ needed information to overwhelm and flood his brain. "What—what?" he muttered.

"That's what they all say," River said. She kicked the gun out of her face. "And that's what they all do. Surprise weakens a man the most, I've learned." With five quick moves, she had his gun in her hands and pointed at his stupid hat. "Hope you're not too terribly attached to this one, darling."

Indiana Jones set his mouth into an irked frown and help up his hands.

"Aren't you going to fight me for the gun back, or are you too much of a gentleman for that? If it's the latter, I must say—chivalry shall be your downfall. But I respect it." River stuck the gun into her own holster, which she wore on all her pants, ready for any occasion. She gave him a quick look that asked him for an answer with her eyes.

"I don't make it a habit, if that's what you're asking. Now, I say we take it easy for a second and just talk. I'm getting too old for fighting hands on," Indiana said.

River looked into his face. "Not too old. You could have me pinned with this gun against my forehead in seconds. But you're choosing not to. Well." She sighed and wiped her hands off her pants. "Talking's more of my husband's thing, but why not? Let's give it the chance I usually never give it." She held out her hand. "I agree with you, Indiana. Let's talk."

Indiana Jones shook River Song's hand.

* * *

" . . . And so lives were, as a matter of fact, at stake. That's why I took it. Otherwise I never would've done it. I've nothing but a great respect for other archaeologists. They're _colleagues_!" River ended a long explanation of the reason behind their disgruntled first meeting with her hand wrapped around a glass of whiskey.

Indiana, sitting opposite her in this huge local bar, said with a little humor, "And since when do you make it a habit of almost killing your colleagues?"

"It's not a habit. Usually those I fight aren't archaeologists, but enemies, jealous people, you know. Like some Sontarans that one time, and Cybermen—they're jealous, but they don't think they are, them and their exclusion of all emotions—and don't get me started on those ones with the crystal skulls . . . they got into your head too much—"

Indiana had started laughing halfway through her sentence. She only stopped because she knew she'd lost her audience member to a fit of hysterical laughter.

"Are we all right, darling?" River asked, a little sarcastically.

"I can't tell who drank too much. You or _me_ ," Indiana finally said, when he could speak.

This made River laugh. "Haven't you understood a single word I've said?" she asked incredulously.

"I lost you around the point where you said you were teleported into the aliens' spaceship to give them the horn in exchange for your family," Indiana said.

"Well. . . It's all true, you know," River said, with a twinkle in her eye.

Indiana Jones decided to not think into it anymore. "Whatever you say, princess," he said.

River quirked her mouth, and knew when to fold them. "Thank you for being so _generously_ understanding, Indy," she said, touching her glass to his.

"It's okay, princess." Indiana returned the glass clink. Then, as she took a sip, he sobered for a second. "But was shooting my fedora necessary?"

"Oh, completely necessary. You were committing a horrible crime. I had to rectify the situation." River drained her glass and brought her head back just to see Indiana's frustrated face. "No, it wasn't necessary!" he said.

"It's a miracle I'm letting you keep the one you're wearing right now," River said teasingly. She knew just what buttons to push on him.

"Now see here—" and River grinned as the old man rambled about her sticking a bullet in his hat. He seemed purposely so much more stuck on that than her various intentional mentions of aliens. She ordered another round, and, finding this a pleasant conversation with an old colleague, enjoyed the remainder of their friendly visit.

 **Thanks for reading!**


End file.
